


Bottom!Deacon Headcanons

by LastAstronaut



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, bottom!Deacon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9516482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastAstronaut/pseuds/LastAstronaut
Summary: I've had some wine and want to share some brief moments of Deacon being a good boy.





	

He’s a brat. When Sole slaps him across the face he gasps at the sting from black latex gloves, and chuckles immediately to regain composure. “What did I do to deserve _that_?” He pants, then bites his bottom lip.

Sole arches an eyebrow and grabs his chin, leaning forward and maintaining eye contact. “Do _not_ talk back, little boy,” they purr under their breath, just loud enough for Deacon to hear them.

He raises his hips to grind against theirs and groans, “Make me.”

***

He loves being forced to eat Sole’s cunt. “Let’s put that smart mouth to good use,” they say tersely, feeling his smirk against their core after straddling his face. Pressing their fingernails into his chest, they grind back and forth on his tongue and quickly realize he’ll never keep his mouth shut.

Deacon mewls, sobs, and whimpers while running his tongue up and down their slit. He pushes his hips forward, grunting at the lack of contact. His lips seal around their clit, sucking hard and letting go with an obscene pop of his mouth.

Sole shudders and growls in frustration at his increasing disobedience.

***

Deacon is a slut for praise. Even when Sole is losing patience with his smartass retorts and one-liners, they can’t deny how beautiful he looks when a deep pink creeps on his cheeks after they tell him how perfect he feels.

They’re riding his hard dick as he’s cuffed to their bed, eyes locked on his as he watches them bounce. “Such a good boy for me,” they sigh, circling their hips against his.

It leaves him speechless. He knows not to thrust into them or he doesn’t get his sweet release. His toes curl, his head falls back against a pillow. He’s whining and pleading for more.

“I want to see those gorgeous blue eyes on me,” they wink, and his eyes snap to meet theirs. “That’s right,” they hum, “You’re so good for me, Deacon.”

He cries out, desperately staving off an orgasm.

***

When he gets permission, he comes hard and with a wail. Sole prefers to taste him, but will make do with the hot spurts against his stomach. Tonight, Deacon comes on himself, and Sole drags their tongue up to his mouth, sharing the juice with him.

He moans into their mouth and struggles against the cuffs, attempting to normalize his breath.

“Jesus,” he pants.

Sole smacks his cheek lightly, “What do you say?”

He grins bashfully, “Thank you.”


End file.
